The Usual Palm Tree
by M'rika
Summary: "You lean on the balcony that overlooks the ballroom. You really shouldn't be up here, watching everyone else," but right now you just want to observe. Oneshot. A pureblood ball. Written in second person.


An: So I got bored of revision, and decided to try something new. Hence the second person. Not sure if it works, let me know what you think. Enjoy.

The Usual Palm Tree

You lean on the balcony that overlooks the ballroom. You really shouldn't be up here, watching everyone else. Mother has told you often enough that you have to dance if you want to be noticed, but you have already danced this evening and right now you just want to observe. There are maybe three hundred people in the hall, dancing, talking, laughing. You gaze across the shining, swirling mass of people, scanning for people you recognise.

In the middle of the dancefloor are Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange, looking like the perfect couple as they turn in a waltz. She's so beautiful, with a devoted husband, who she chose herself. You can only hope that you'll be as lucky as her when it comes to marriage.

The sulky looking boy kicking his heels by the door that opens onto the upper terrace is Sirius Black. With his bow tie hung loosely around his neck and the scowl engraved on his face, it is obvious he does not want to be here. If the rumours are true, he has had an increasing number of arguments with his parents. He's almost sixteen and there are whispers that his parents are going to choose a bride for him. The couple gliding past him are the Greengrasses. Recently married, they often slip away to dark corners or quiet gardens during these parties. However, you imagine it will not be long before they become bored with each other, and spend these gatherings talking to other people, and only dancing with each other to keep up appearances.

There's Rabastan Lestrange, exchanging flirtatious banter with Hannah Rosier. At least, you assume it's flirtatious. You can't actually hear from up here, but it's a safe bet with Lestrange. The stories you've heard about him are enough to make your hair curl and it looks like Hannah is his next target. Sure enough, she's blushing and laughing and accepts his proffered hand, before he leads her onto the dancefloor.

By the punch bowl is Lucius Malfoy, handing a crystal glass to his blonde wife. You quite like Narcissa; when you got lost at their house last year, she came looking for you and didn't make you feel like an idiot. Which was a welcome change, from the other young wives, who tended to laugh at you when you failed to follow society protocol to the letter. It didn't matter to them that you were still learning. But Narcissa had been kind.

Not far away, Caroline Zabini was flirting with Antonin Dolohov. Caroline wasn't technically a Zabini anymore, but after her third husband had died, she reverted to her maiden name, saying that there was little point changing her name only to change it back again, if her husbands insisted on dying only a few months into their marriage. You weren't sure why she was bothering with Dolohov, especially with her latest husband only a few feet away, but you had learnt long ago not to try and understand Caroline Zabini's actions. She always seemed to walk to another drumbeat.

"I don't like to dance either." The voice startles you, and you turn, trying to step backwards at the same time. You know who this is. It's Regulus Black, Sirius' younger brother. Quiet, slim, in your Ancient Runes class. He's good as well, which is irritating, considering how much work you have to put into that subject. "Mother insists I must, but it's not exactly my idea of fun."

You attempt a smile. You've been trained to talk to boys, but for some reason, everything your mother has ever said has flown out of your head. "It's not that bad," you volunteer.

"Of course." He leans on the balustrade, next to where you had been standing. "Who were you spying on?"

You hesitantly move back to where you were before, your forearm only millimetres from his. "Everyone."

"Excellent." He flashes you a grin, its intensity startling you. "Have you seen Lucretia Yaxley? She's dancing with Augustus Rookwood, and you know that's going to spell trouble."

You watch as he points out other people, other catastrophes waiting to happen and you smiled. Suddenly, these balls didn't seem so bad.


End file.
